


Little Brothers are the Worst

by awesomerosie



Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Fluff, Humor, M/M, not quite crack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-30
Updated: 2019-01-30
Packaged: 2019-10-19 14:17:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17602913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/awesomerosie/pseuds/awesomerosie
Summary: Ivar comes to stay for a while and, like the little shit that he is, antagonizes Sigurd and his roommate, Heahmund, to no end. Sigurd wouldn't hate Ivar so much if Ivar wasn't actively trying to ruin his life.





	Little Brothers are the Worst

**Author's Note:**

> I am both the older sibling who got usurped and the younger demon sibling of a large family, so I understand the relationship between these two far too well. I'm way more chill with my little brother now though, so it's cool.

_“Please, Brother?”_ Ivar pleaded over the phone. _“Mother is suffocating me. I promise it’ll only be a week.”_

Sigurd sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, turning to lean against the kitchen counter. “Fine, but only a week.” His hand dropped, jerking back up when he remembered who else lived in his apartment. “And no terrorizing my roommate.”

 _“Deal,”_ Ivar said. _“I’ll be there tomorrow.”_

“Wonderful,” Sigurd muttered even though Ivar already hung up. He wandered down the hall, calling out, “Heahmund?”

Sigurd stuck his head into Heahmund’s open door. Heahmund spun around in his desk chair, eyebrows raising in question.

“My brother wants to sleep on our couch for a bit, that’s cool with you, right?”

Heahmund, being the perfect fucking pastor-in-training he was, shrugged and said, “That’s fine.”

“Great,” Sigurd muttered as he slipped away. He had almost hoped Heahmund would say no.

\---

Ivar showed up early the next morning, too early for Sigurd’s liking. Sigurd ushered him in, waving at the old lady across the hall who was grimacing at his ratty pajama pants.

“Do you have to wake up so early?” Sigurd asked, closing the door behind Ivar’s wheelchair.

Ivar spun his chair around, laughing at Sigurd’s pain. “It’s not my fault you sleep late.”

“Nine is a perfectly reasonable time to wake up.”

Heahmund walked around the corner just then, surprise lighting up his face when he spotted Ivar. He schooled himself and said, “Hello there.”

Ivar swiveled halfway around to peer at the newcomer. His mouth said, “Hello,” but his eyes were speaking mischief.

Sigurd stalked past Ivar into the kitchen for a much-needed cup of coffee. He pointed over the island as he said, “Heahmund, this is Ivar. Ivar, this is my roommate Heahmund. Be nice to each other.” The command was much more for Ivar than for Heahmund, but Ivar hated being directly called out for his shenanigans.

The silence rang out for only a second before Heahmund asked, “Would you like a tour?”

“Absolutely,” Ivar replied.

Sigurd heard the footsteps of Heahmund planning to push Ivar’s chair. He also heard the familiar click, click, thump of Ivar locking the wheels and launching himself out of it. He turned to see the hilarious look of the hundredth person staring openly at his brother crawling around on the floor. Heahmund recovered quickly and followed Ivar down the hall, sending an apologetic smile Sigurd’s way as he left.

\---

With coffee in his system and a newly cleaned body, Sigurd finally felt ready for the day. He opened the bathroom door and immediately regretted everything.

Ivar’s voice floated down the hall. _“Theology, you say? So, which tale of bullshit do you believe in?”_

Sigurd wondered if they had anything stronger than coffee in the house while he walked cautiously to the kitchen. Ivar sat at the island with Heahmund standing across the counter, setting down two mugs of tea.

“I’m Christian,” Heahmund said, “but I wouldn’t call it bullshit.”

“Oh no,” Ivar said, waving his hand over the counter, “you wouldn’t, but that doesn’t mean I’m not correct.”

Sigurd half hopped, half slugged into the kitchen as a distraction. “Hey, why don’t we talk about something less likely to get people stabbed?”

“How about,” Ivar said, pausing for dramatic effect as he stared Heahmund down, “we find out how homophobic our future pastor is?”

“Nope,” Sigurd said, anticipating the impending argument. He walked around the island and shoved his hands under Ivar’s armpits, dragging him from the barstool and into his chair. “We’re going out for breakfast. Let’s go. See ya, Heahmund.”

This was going to be a long week.

\---

The peace lasted nearly two whole days, a record where Ivar was involved. At least, that was what Sigurd thought until he returned home from university that second day to find Ivar with his dick out in the living room.

“God damn it, Ivar,” Sigurd said, silently asking every supernatural deity to come and swallow him up, “that’s my couch!”

“Sorry, Brother,” Ivar said with far too smug a look on his face for it to actually mean anything. “Heahmund insulted my virility, I was merely defending my honor.” He pointed at Heahmund sitting in the armchair as if this was the most obvious thing in the world.

Sigurd rubbed his eyes, trying to scrub the image of his brother’s penis out of his mind. “Why? You know what, I don’t want to know.” He waved a hand in their direction as he fully entered and headed toward his bedroom. “I don’t care what’s happening here, just keep your dicks off my couch.”

“We’re not-” he heard Heahmund start to say, but by then Sigurd had tuned everything out.

\---

Sigurd crept around the corner, peeking through his fingers in an attempt to keep himself from getting traumatized again. The apartment was quiet, but that could mean anything. He couldn’t see anything over the back of the couch, not even Ivar’s head, which either meant he was lying down or he wasn’t there. With a silent prayer, Sigurd stepped into the living space, moving quietly in case Ivar really was asleep.

Three steps were all it took to completely regret all of his life choices.

Ivar moaned. He knew it was Ivar because Heahmund’s mouth was otherwise occupied with Ivar’s dick. Sigurd crouched, a long drawn out groan leaving his mouth before he could think better of it.

One final slurp rang out in the room before an eerie silence settled over all of them. Sigurd wanted to die right then and there, except that then the last thing he saw was Ivar’s dick and that was entirely unacceptable.

Sigurd held a hand to his eyes, blocking the couch from his vision as he headed for the door. He grabbed his shoes, not willing to chance the time it would take to put them on.

“Brother?”

“No, nope, not listening,” Sigurd muttered, opening the front door. The door clicked behind him and brought a sense of clarity with it, hammering the idea that Ivar, hater of all things Christian and possible antiChrist, was fucking his very, very Christian roommate. The end of the world was coming sooner than Sigurd would have liked.

\---

Without a wallet or a phone, Sigurd was out of luck. He made his way downtown to the public library - which was ironically closer than the university library, even though he was less than two blocks away from campus? - and called up the peacemaker of their family, Ubbe.

“Get Ivar out of my house,” Sigurd said, groaning into the receiver.

 _“Come on,”_ Ubbe said, obviously not aware of the situation, _“he can’t be that bad.”_

“He’s fucking my roommate!” The librarian shushed him and a lady with a young child glared at him because of course, Ivar would start his debauchery when there were still small children running about.

_“The pastor?”_

“Yeah, he’s ruining a holy man. He might actually be Satan.”

_“That's probably an exaggeration.”_

“It’s not. You were off at uni when he hit puberty. You don’t know what kind of demonic shit he put me through.” Great, now the librarian was giving him the evil eye. “Just come get him, please? I’ll babysit for the rest of time if you do.”

_“Alright, fine, but I’m holding you to that.”_

“Thank you, Ubbe. You’re the best brother.”

\---

Sigurd sat down the hall from his front door just in case he could hear anything happening inside. He spent nearly an hour waiting for Ubbe and trying to decide how much of this he could use against Ivar later. By the time Ubbe walked up with a baby on his hip, the consensus was all of it and he could totally get Bjorn on his side.

“You okay?” Ubbe asked, helping Sigurd off the floor.

“I’ll be better when Ivar isn’t actively defiling my home.”

The path to his door felt longer than usual, though that could have been due to the feeling of dread situated low in his belly. Whatever it was, Sigurd couldn’t help but get a bit squeamish at the possibility of seeing those horrors again.

Ubbe, being the smart, reasonable older brother, knocked and then covered Lise’s innocent eyes before the door opened. Heahmund peeked out, eyebrows shooting up in surprise at the sight of someone other than Sigurd.

“Hi,” Ubbe said, “is Ivar decent?”

Heahmund’s beard scratched against the door as he turned to look. He shook his head, glancing down at the baby before saying, “Give us a minute.”

The door closed once again and indecipherable murmuring floated through the cracks. A moment later, it swung open, revealing a disheveled Heahmund and a much too smug Ivar. Ubbe and Sigurd slipped inside, Sigurd purposely leaving the door open just in case he needed to make a quick exit.

“Alright,” Ubbe said, “pack your things, Ivar, it’s time to go.”

Ivar’s face fell. “But, Sigurd said I could stay for a week.”

“Not if you’re going to terrorize him.”

“Oh, really,” Ivar said, looking over Ubbe’s shoulder at Sigurd. “Does the thought of your cripple brother in the bedroom disgust you so much that you're willing to kick me out on the street?”

“You weren’t in the bedroom. You were on my fucking couch!” Sigurd saw Ubbe covering Lise’s ears, a look of resignation settling on his face. “I thought you might have changed, maybe realised that Mom’s a drunk bitch and come to the light side, but obviously I was wrong. It’s not your fucking legs that disgust me, it’s how you ruin everything I love!”

Ubbe stuck his free arm out, stopping Sigurd from charging at Ivar. “Look, you can stay with me if you don’t want to go home, but you can’t stay here.”

Ivar looked at Lise with thinly veiled contempt, saying, “I would rather sleep on the streets.”

“Perfect,” Ubbe said far more cheerfully than it deserved, “back home it is then.”

With much whining and far too many glares sent Sigurd’s direction, Ivar and Ubbe left. Sigurd stood in the middle of his living room, deciding whether it was worth trying to clean the couch or if he should just burn it with the rest of the things Ivar touched. Heahmund lingered on the edge of his vision, staring at him like he wanted to ask a question.

“What is it, Heahmund?”

Heahmund crept forward, nervous energy surrounding him. “You won’t tell anyone about this, will you?”

“God, no.”

“Then uh,” Heahmund hesitated, looking conflicted maybe? “Could I have Ivar’s phone number?”

“God damn it, Heahmund,” Sigurd sighed. Heahmund’s sad face cut deep and Sigurd prided himself on being a better brother than Ivar, even if it was Ivar he was being nice to. “Fine.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry if Heahmund is out of character at the end, I literally don't know how everyone thinks this pairing works. But, this was fun to write and I hope you like it. Good job getting this far and thank you for clicking. Come join me on [Tumblr](https://rosiewritesridiculousshit.tumblr.com//) @RosieWritesRidiculousShit or @RainbowsPoopingUnicorns for more ridiculousness.


End file.
